


Winning Combinations

by Anonymous



Category: Horus Heresy - Various Authors
Genre: Dialogue Heavy, Friendship, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-24 13:34:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13214820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Tarik illuminates his brothers on the etymology of their council name which begs the question, who gets which card?





	Winning Combinations

"Have you heard the latest?" Torgaddon asked over the evening meal one day, helping himself to an empty seat.

"What is it now?" Loken asked in return.

"You and your gossip," Abaddon muttered.

"Like an old fish wife," Aximand nodded.

"I take it upon myself to keep an ear to the ground," Torgaddon shrugged, "How else would the three of you, uptight as you are, hear stories of this?" And then he grinned, leaning in, and without meaning to, his brothers did the same.

"Well?" Aximand prompted.

"Now that one of the Remembrancers has let slip the etymology of our brotherhood," Torgaddon gestured to them, "The men are wondering who's-who."

"Etymology?" Abaddon frowned.

"A Remembrancer?" Loken echoed.

"What?" Aximand repeated, summing up their feelings on the matter.

"The Mournival," Torgaddon repeated, "You know? What we're called?"

"I thought it was just a name," Aximand said.

"So did I," Loken admitted.

"It _is_ just a name," Abaddon rumbled.

"Except it's not," Torgaddon rolled his eyes. "Look, you know cards right?" The other three nodded, more or less, though Loken's quick slant of eyes betrayed that he had spent little (if any) time playing them. Yet another reason why he should be dragged into the silent brotherhood at the first opportunity, Torgaddon thought, making a mental note for a later day. "The highest four? Apparently if you've all of them in one hand, it's a winning combination. Hence, Mournival."

"A winning combination, eh?" Abaddon grinned.

"But what's this about who's-who?" Loken pursued.

"Oh," Aximand was the first to come to understanding, "The cards. Ace, Monarch, Empress, Knave."

"Whose men have enough time to discuss such pointless issues?" -- Loken, of course.

"How is that worth discussing?" Abaddon snorted.

"You mean it's obvious?" Torgaddon countered.

"Obviously," the First Captain answered. "I'm the Ace, you're the Monarch, Little Horus here is the Empress and Garviel is the Knave."

And therein followed a drop of silence.

And then --

"I am not the Empress!"

"Why is it you're the Ace?"

"I'm not too pleased at being Monarch, actually."

"It makes the most sense," Abaddon insisted.

"Based off of what? Seniority?"

"No, our signs."

"What?"

"The moon phases."

"Oh," Torgaddon paused. "I hadn't thought of that."

"That's a stupid way of going about it," Aximand groused, "It ought to at least pair up better than that."

"What would you suggest then Little Horus?" Loken prompted.

"Hmm... well, I wouldn't have me as the Empress for starters." He thought about this for a while and pointed to Torgaddon, "Tarik, you'd be Empress."

"Me?" Torgaddon chuckled, "Do I look like one?"

"You've got the hair for it," Aximand shrugged, "And then I could be Monarch and Ezekyle and Garviel might stay as they are."

"Must I be the knave every time?" Loken complained.

"It's not bad reasoning," Abaddon shrugged. What mattered to him, of course, was that he was ace.

"Well if I'm Empress because of my hair," Torgaddon protested, "Then I say the right go to Ezekyle here," to demonstrate, he tugged on the other's topknot.

"What!"

"No really," Torgaddon continued, unheeding of Abaddon's ire as only he could manage, "Ezekyle would make a great Empress. And Garvi... you'd be a good Monarch."

"Thank you kindly," Loken sighed, glad to be rid of the title of Knave.

"I would make no Empress," Abaddon growled.

"And then?" Aximand pressed, curious despite himself.

"And then..." Torgaddon shrugged, "You can be Ace Little Horus, leaving me as the Knave."

"That's a terrible order," Abaddon repeated.

"Well," Torgaddon shrugged, "I tried. Garvi?"

"What?"

"What do you think?"

"I think this is all ridiculous and a waste of time," Loken reiterated.

"Oh come off it," Torgaddon chided, clapping him on the shoulder, "You're amongst brothers here. Tell, tell!"

"I am a little curious now," Aximand admitted, "Since you've clearly thoughts on this."

"Is he ever without thoughts on something?" -- Abaddon.

"Fine," Loken heaved a sigh as if this were some great inconvenience, "If it were me... I'd be Ace, Ezekyle as Monarch..." he paused, "Little Horus as Empress again, sorry," he quickly apologized, "But only because Tarik would make a good Knave."

"Better a Knave than an Empress," Aximand muttered.

"Well," Abaddon shrugged, "Empress is the higher card."

"How is the Empress taller than the Knave?" Loken asked.

The other three turned, as one, to stare blankly at him.

"Okay that's it," Torgaddon declared, "Ezekyle, get someone to fetch us a deck of cards. Garvi is not going another day without learning how to play. In the name of the Emperor and the might of the Imperium of Man, I will teach you a blasted card game or two."

And so it was, that Loken was at last introduced to the wonders of playing cards that day.

"And to think I missed a sparring session for this," he grumbled, after three losing hands in a row.

"Oh sod off," Aximand (who was five down) snapped back.

"It's a pity we're not betting anything," Torgaddon (three up and willing to be the fourth was in the wings) remarked, leering at Abaddon (two up).

"You spend too much time on these fools' games," Abaddon retorted. And then he revealed his hand with a flourish. "There, you see?" he prodded, wiping the grin from Torgaddon's face. "A Mournival. I win."


End file.
